


Distraction

by Gonardo



Category: American Assassin - Vince Flynn, Stratton
Genre: AU, Anal Fingering, Assholish behaviour, Blades, Blow Jobs, Crossover, Dirty Talk, Drugging, Guns, Inappropriate Behavior, Kidnapping, M/M, Nightmares, Phone Sex, Spit As Lube, Violence, Wounds, as jas says, spit and pray
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-08
Updated: 2017-06-21
Packaged: 2018-10-16 13:57:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10572711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gonardo/pseuds/Gonardo
Summary: Marty's new job? Oh yeah, about that. He is now looking out for Mitch for his boss. "Distract him," he says. No one said anything about falling for the man.





	1. The  main attraction

**Author's Note:**

  * For [FiccinDylan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FiccinDylan/gifts).



> I just wanted to write some smut, but Marty and Mitch had to fall for one another. I will start chapter two soon. Expect tears... And lots of feels, not to mention orgasms.
> 
> Not beta'd. Sorry for my mistakes. Enjoy?
> 
> Heed new tags

“Come in,” Stratton waves him in, ear pressed to the receiver. Managing to snarl and roll his eyes at the same time before his whole demeanor changes to sickly sweet. “Thanks. Try not to fuck it up again, alright?” He manages to get the answer he's looking for as he slams the phone down. The table groans in protest.

“Change of plans my dear boy.”

“What do you need?” Marty tenses up.It isn't often he questions his leader's orders or request, but this once Marty makes an exception. It starts off innocent enough, Stratton calling him into office. The dingy, dimly lit one that sets off a chain reaction on all of his senses. He swears the man does it on purpose.

“I want you to be aware of two things,” he tells him. Two folders slap against the metal table that has long since seen better days. “First is I was contacted by my old boss who is in town.” Stratton taps his forefinger on one of the folders before sliding it over. Marty feels a headache bloom behind his eyes but still takes a look at the photos as best he can.

The first image is muted of color, but there appears to be a man not much younger than himself. His forearms are corded as he grips the gun, looking out before him. There is untold stealth in the pose, coiled up and ready to spring at moments notice.

The next picture makes a knot form in his throat. Marty knows that look all too well, those eyes behold of much grief. There is a photo of Stratton and the man he assumes is his former boss. Stratton’s eyes are focused intently on the other man, who seems to be relaxed.

“If you come across them I want you to proceed with caution. Still do your job, while looking out for Mitch.” Marty nods a bit absently in agreement.

“Good. Next thing is, the old spies are back in business.” Marty feels his hackles rise, they weren't able to flush them out last time. He hopes that this time will be different. “All right, get to work.” Marty doesn't bring up Stratton's slip of accent. Pretty sure it wouldn't be needed anyway.

*

Marty is pretty sure that his boss is keeping something from him, but doesn't question Stratton. While out on patrol one chilly night, Marty thinks he sees Mitch. The man is much more daunting in person, corded muscles bulging noticeably all while still being covered by olive green sleeves of the Henley he’s wearing.

Marty goes on alert when some shady character shows up, obviously trailing Mitch. It makes his palms itch, wishing for a weapon that is better suited for this type of situation. As it stands, he needs to be silent. Last things he needs is to give his position away this early in the game.

Mitch somehow ditches the loser without too much trouble. Marty feels immediate relief. He's seen enough shit go down to last several lifetimes.

 *

“I need you to tail Mitch a bit closer. He's getting too close for comfort. If you manage to interact with him public, make contact. Greet him as he is in passing. Distract him if need be.”

“Distract him how?”

“That is up for you to decide,” Stratton replies, gaze boring into his own. Marty swallows thickly at that, saying nothing in reply.

* 

Marty ends up running into the other man while visiting one of his old haunts. It’s a Friday night and he has no other place to be, since Stratton told him to go take a load off. He’s currently sipping his beer when the other man walks in, amber eyes searching the crowd before planting himself down on a bar stool. Marty is a little shocked that Mitch didn’t sit elsewhere as it to get a better read on the door. As it stands, Marty just shrugs internally before returning to his drink. There is a pull in his gut, tugging at him as Mitch’s scent reaches his nose.It is undeniable just how attractive Mitch is, with the shaggy hair and upturned nose, smelling of sea and musk. Marty knows that this is his chance to at least spark up a conversation with the fellow spy/agent. Nerves light up as he fights to find something to say.

He and Mitch turn their heads as two blondes walk in, talking in strong tones and shared giggling. Mitch just sighs and turns around while shaking his head, Marty finds himself doing the same. He used to have a thing for blondes, once upon a time, but that was before… He shakes himself from following those thoughts before nodding over to the other man.

“Come here often?” Real smooth, Marty, he chides himself. “They always have one of the best selections of beer, not to mention their bartender is first class.” His long time buddy looks up from pouring a drink, frown turning into a dazzling smile. “Friendly to say the least. What’s up Bud, how’s everyone doing?” The man in question was busy when Marty walked in, but now his focus is clearly on him.

“Marty, long time no see. Everyone is good, sis was driving herself, and everyone else I might add,” he stage whispers, “crazy. As you can see she is not good at sitting around while waiting for the little one to arrive. Me and her wife argued that it may not be a good place to unwind, but we both lost the argument.” He slaps a hand down before Mitch. “Now here’s a face I thought I’d never see again. Thanks for stopping by, dude. You are more than welcome to hang out all you want. Well I have customers waiting on me, not to mention I am getting the glare from my sis. Have yourselves a good time. Mingle a little,” he grins at them before moving down the other side of the bar.

“You know Bud?” Mitch asks.

“Yeah, we went to the same damn academy. How about you, know him that long?”

“Not quite, but for a while now.” Marty watches as Mitch turns the glass of beer in his hands, long slender fingers spread out, engulfing the glass. There is a hint of sadness in his tone, and it makes Marty ache.

“No one better to count on, that’s for sure.”

“Got that right. Nice to meet you, uh, didn’t get your name.”

“It’s Marty. Same here.” They shake hands, before Mitch takes the seat directly next to Marty. “Always nice to have a friendly face around. Don’t know many other people around here.”

“Well you do now,” Marty quips.

*

The combination of beer and dick is an acquired taste, that’s for sure, but with Mitch’s breath hitching every time he took him deep down his throat, it is one Marty could get down with.

“Oh god, you are so good at this, fuck. I’m not going to last.” Marty could feel the trembling start in Mitch’s thighs as he grew closer. He pops off right before white creamy ribbons streak along stubble, clinging to his skin. Not being able to help himself but to take a taste, and it bursts along his tongue. “Oh fuck!” Mitch whines as he finally comes down from his climax. “You are really, really good at that.”

“You said that already,” Marty quips before standing up to give the dazed man a kiss. Mitch opens up readily, and Marty eases his tongue inside, sharing Mitch’s taste with him. When they separate, Mitch leans into his shoulder.

“Call me?”

“Sure thing,” Marty replies.

“What about, you know?” The assassin gestures to Marty’s obvious hard on straining against his zipper.

“I’ll make sure you listen in while I get myself off.” He waits until Mitch is safely tucked in a cab before he makes his way back to his flat. Marty called the cab while the other man was in the bathroom, just to ease his mind a bit. He sleeps well after the phone sex, Mitch moaning in his ear over the phone, as he gets off for the second time that night. Marty shoots so hard he hits his chin, and he doesn’t even mind about the clean up after. Looks like the distraction is working both ways.


	2. A Little Death Never Killed Anyone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marty lets himself be taken, and finds out just badass Mitch really is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So no sexy times again yet. Some violence in this one so take care.
> 
> Not beta read.
> 
> They better get it on next chapter or I swear...
> 
> PS that trailer did it for me many times over.

One thing leads to another, meaning Mitch stays over at Marty’s flat instead of crashing at Bud’s. They talk about nothing and everything, each sneaking out in the middle of the night to scope out the area. Mitch is sheepish when caught sneaking back in, and Marty shrugs it off, even though he sees red at the thought of MItch being with someone else.

He gives in and admits that it’s for a job, that his boss is a total asshole that makes him work odd hours. They bond over baseball and beer. Also, they make out quite a bit, some light petting, but nothing under the belt, save for an occasional butt grab.

Stratton calls late at night, sounding scared out of his mind, and Marty is on alert. He tells Mitch that something has come up and to lock up behind him. “I’ll call if anything is too serious. Get back to bed and catch up on some sleep if you can.” Adds a peck on the cheek on instinct before leaving.

When he gets there, the place is a disaster. What once was a organized clutter now looked like a crime scene. And maybe it was. Stratton is on the floor, bottle of liquor mostly gone, though the whiskey glass still has some in it.

“What happened?” Whatever did happen, it has to be bad, he has never seen Stratton like this.

“They got him. They got him right under my nose. And they want Mitch if I want him back.”

“Shit! How long do you have?”

“Does it matter? I’m not doing it. Besides he wouldn’t want me to.” Stratton hiccups a sob.

“We’ll figure something out, we have to.”

“Don’t tell Mitch. Whatever you do, don’t tell him. He will head straight into trouble. We can’t let that happen.” Marty finds himself agreeing though he doesn’t like the idea of lying. This is the job that was given to him, and he has no choice but to do it. Feelings be damned.

*

Marty doesn’t hear from Stratton for a couple of days, and at first doesn't worry about it. But then the days drag by and nothing feels right about it. Mitch starts to look drawn, pale with dark circles under his amber eyes. Not to mention he barely says a thing during their shared meals, not eating much either. He fights himself about telling Mitch what he does know, and though it’s not much, and yet something has to give.

By the time a week and a half passes he waits until his roommate leaves before going out on a hunt. The team thinks that the people they are after have their boss, and it leaves him with a cold feeling. Mitch is late returning, eyes once hopeless now angry and Marty readies himself.

“I may know who has your boss, the same people me and Stratton are after could have him.”

“You know him?” Mitch asks, now weary.

“I work for him,” Marty adds.

“So our meeting wasn’t a mistake? This was all a lie?” Mitch bites out.

“No, not all of it,” he tries to explain.

“Don’t!” Mitch doesn’t shout, no need to. He leaves the room to start packing his things.

“Mitch, don’t do anything crazy. Mitch?”

“This is my problem now.”

“No, it’s not. Let me and my team come up with something, and-”

“I work alone,” Mitch tells him coldly.

“There is a lot at stake here.” Marty can feel his stomach tighten.

“I know, which is why I gotta do this on my own.” And with that he leaves, leaving Marty feeling empty and alone.

*

Marty who on a good day is full of sass, turns into a living hell to be around when the day turns bad. In fact he could barely stand himself those days. Right now his past life is staring him in the face, so many things he could've done differently. Losing Mitch would destroy him.

Still not hearing anything, even while on patrol and added ears and eyes, the worry builds. He finds Stratton bruised and battered in front of his flat, left eye nearly swollen shut.

“They got Mitch, Marty, and it ain’t good.” Marty rushes him to the local clinic, they were always good in the past about not asking questions. Turns out he got him there just in time, as Stratton was close to bleeding out internally. The man, now spleenless, not to mention pale as death, is resting in their hospital bed.

“I will stop at nothing to get him back, both of them.” Marty vows.

*

The thing is that he is so focused on finding Mitch that he lets his guard down, which leads to all kinds of trouble. Like letting sketchy type of people sneak back into his life, ones that cost him everything. He tells himself that he is doing it to find Mitch, but the truth is, Marty is seeking to destroy himself if all goes wrong. And he will take out every mother fucker that laid one hand on Mitch. Going down swinging is the way to go.

Turns out the asshole knows nothing about Mitch, but knows plenty on Stratton and Mitch’s mentor, Stan. It fucks him up real good, like get drunk or high and numb everything kind of way. Joining the academy was supposed to nullify the whole self destructive thing. Well, looks like was only suppressed and now it’s out and ready to go.

Marty has something slipped into his drink, and sure, he’ll play along. Act like he’s under the drug’s spell, if only they knew that shit don’t faze him. In truth, he built up some kind defense to it. His ex was pretty fucking crazy. But then so was he. 

The whole being put into the trunk thing while being tied up is pretty typical and boring behavior, knowing the ins and outs of getting free playing through his somewhat foggy mind. But that is not the correct route at this point in time. So instead Marty focusing on breathing even though there is cloth stuffed in his mouth. Making it so dry his eyes water. The bad suspension in the car is a real headache, jarring him around a bit. Not to mention it is getting pretty hot in there. Seriously, what the fuck is his life?

*

He ‘acts’ disoriented, and yeah he may oversell it a little, but damn, there’s a constant humming buzz floating around his head. Pretends to put up a fight, spits at them, that’s gonna be a huge shiner, not that he cares, for his trouble. They threaten and leer, Marty barters and curses. Same old shit, ya know? By the end half of his face is numb, while the other side pulsates with pain.

That’s when they decided to show him a live video feed of Mitch, who looks much worse that he does, lip split open and swollen. Long hair matted with dried blood, what looks like burn marks along the cords of his arms. Marty growls, trying to lunge from his chair, and he almost regrets it, almost. He gets a back handed blow to the side of the head which he does his best to shake off. The person he hates most, with the cold dead blue eyes, staring him down.

“You’re going to regret that,” Marty bites out.

“So you say.”

He breaks free in a matter of moments, with a hidden razor blade hidden in a bandage. It was a dangerous thing to do, stupid really, but hey, you only live once.

He is on his feet again in the blink of an eye, slicing his way through the others, all while being dodged by the one he hates most. A loud pop startles him for a second, and he reaches for his neck in reflex, can’t tell if it’s his blood he’s seeing or his enemies. Watching with wide eyes as a figure comes into to view, arms tensed, body lethal. The man he had been hunting for months crumples to the ground, utterly motionless after.

Mitch blinks, eyes a little bleary. “You alright?”

“Yeah, you?” He wants to run to him so badly but refrains.

“Sort of, been through worse. See Stan yet?”

“No,” Marty sounds apologetic, then adds, “if he’s the one who trained you then I’m pretty sure he’s okay.”

“Yeah, maybe.” Mitch walks over to the dead body and gives it a vicious kick, well mostly, due to him being tied up for as long as he has.

“Let’s go. The team can clean up this garbage.” He catches Mitch just as he stumbles.

“Pins and needles, pins and needles,” he mutters.

“That all it is, had me worried for a second,” Marty jokes.

“Shut up,” Mitch groans out.

*

They go to the same place that Marty took Stratton, Mitch ends up needing stitches in his scalp. Lots of fluids and… “Stop being such a fucking mother hen and sit,” he jabs his finger at the chair and Marty takes it. “Thanks, asshole.” Both Stratton and Stan walk in together.

“John,” Marty breathes.

“Haven’t called me that in a long time, anything bothering you?”

“A little deja vu,” he chokes out.

“You’re fine. Pretty tough to kill if you ask me.”

“Yeah, well I didn’t.”

“Shut up smart ass.”


	3. Coming apart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marty feels the walls tumbling down around him. Question is, will Mitch be there in the end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gah. It feels disjointed and I'm bummed. But hey there is an orgasm...
> 
> Personal head cannon is that Marty and Mitch enjoy a little pain. Not extreme w it, but don't mind it in the bedroom.
> 
> Edit (11/28/17) I decided to change a little of this chapter near the end to better fit the flow of the chapter I’m now working on. Nothing to drastic, instead of lube, Mitch uses spit. So an update on the tags are needed. Hoping to have my chapter done by the end of the week. Wish me luck guys :(

Marty is still abuzz after cheating death. Everyone safe and sound at the moment, been a while since that has happened. Mitch keeps an eye on him, as he keeps rubbing his neck repeatedly, without thought. He thinks he dozes off and on, still high from whatever those morons slipped him.

Stratton is a real son of a bitch to deal with when he's laid up, even having Stan rolling his eyes. Mitch bats anyone trying to help him away, including the nurses. Expression souring.

Once he makes it back to his flat, Marty takes a forty five minute shower. Thankfully the fog lifts enough that he is able to send word to his mom that he is alive and well. There are plenty of tears, not to mention a whole lot of cursing. He felt his face heat up half way through the tirade, knowing full well most of it is deserved. Funny enough, he wouldn’t have it any other way.

*

He wakes up in the middle of the night, vision slightly blurry, as someone comes into view. He knows that profile well, from the gait to the corded muscles. The figure comes to a standstill at the foot of the bed, and deep down Marty knows that it's for his benefit.

Just as he starts to lose focus once more, Marty feels Mitch’s arms envelope him. “Sh. I got you.” Total blackness follows.

* 

It had been several years since Marty had what his therapist called night terrors. Yeah the scenarios were a bit different, yet they all had a common theme: feeling helpless. From flying through the world with no stopping, to savage beast wanting to tear out his throat. Not a fun feeling.

Currently he is in one, just pleading for Mitch to let him go. That he wouldn’t tell anyone. Sinister laughter is followed by a vicious swing. Cold sharp metal meeting the thundering pulse in his neck…

He comes to with a start, hands clawing at his throat. Marty can’t breathe, he can’t-

“Hey, come on. Look at me. Come here,” Mitch reaches for him slowly. Marty shudders but lets the other man soothe him. Slowly Mitch drags his finger across his neck and Marty cringes. He knows he’ll see the blood. Instead, the only thing coating Mitch’s fingertips is sweat. “Now I want you to focus your attention on me.” Marty lets his hands move forward to land on Mitch’s chest.

Its surprisingly effective. He licks his lips and focuses the other man’s neck. It is long with patches of moles, and if one looks close enough, a steady pulse thrumming beneath the skin.

Their eyes meet, shocked green ones with liquid amber orbs. Mitch’s gaze does not falter, nor shut down. If anything they seem more open and honest like when they first met.

Something in the air changes, Marty can't quite put his finger on it. The walls that were so carefully erected come crumbling down. He leans into Mitch, head on the other man's steady shoulder, and just breathes. Stops pretending that everything is okay. Like nothing out of the ordinary took place. He manages to cheat once more, the thought alone caused him to break out into a cold sweat.

“Nobody said it would be easy, this life we live,” Mitch tells him. Marty shudders. That honestly is an understatement. “But someone's gotta do it.” Marty pulls back to look the other man in the eyes and sees the coldness there. The moment, however was short lived. He pulls himself up and heads to the bathroom, stripping clothes along the way. Sitting around in one's stale sweat is never a fun thing. Waits until a little heat mixes with the cold before stepping in. Marty moans as the refreshing spray blasts away the stickiness.

He's in the middle of wiping water from his face as Mitch steps in. Marty groans as the assassin’s body heat envelopes his back. Arms wrap around him once more, this time to tease. A tweak of the nipple, fingernails raking down his chest. A stifled moan echoes against the tile walls.

“I'm gonna make you feel good. Fill you up real nice. You want it don't you? Want my cock. Yeah, such a filthy little slut for it.” Marty feels his own prick twitch and fill with blood. “That's it, get ya all hot, doesn't it baby?”

He can only sob in response. Soon Mitch lowers himself behind him, pries his cheeks open to expose the twitching hole. The last time he was rimmed it was some college frat douche, but man did he know how to use his tongue. A well placed spit has him clawing at the walls. But it's all in vain, he can't escape it, doesn't want to. Been too long since he let himself feel nothing but pleasure.

The first hot swipe has him keening, nerve endings pulsing with pleasure. The next turns him both burning and icy cold. Suddenly hands grab his hips, forcing him backwards, and just like that his rim opens up. Skilled muscles working against his own, pleased hums coming from Mitch makes pre cum dribble from his slit.

Mitch eats at his ass like a man starved, deprived of flesh and desires. Marty starts to babble after a rough thrust of Mitch’s finger. The burn is welcome addition truth be told.

He feels lost once Mitch stops. “Got any lube? I don't want to fuck you dry.”

“In my night table drawer.” Mitch reaches past him to turn off the tap.

“Come on.” Mitch goes for the drawer but Marty stops him. They look at one another for a couple of beats before Mitch raises his brow, but Marty doesn’t back down.

The bed beneath him barely registers as Mitch placed his fingers into his mouth. His sucks on them, teeth scraping before Mitch pops them out. Marty tenses a second as spit soaked fingers trail against his taint. Knowing that said saliva was drying out fast, yet he wants this. 

And just like he opens up. Two fingers slide in together, and he tenses from the sensation. It hurts, he feels like he's going to die. Mitch seizes his ankle and lifts it over his shoulder. Marty immediately feels vulnerable, but doesn't make a move to stop it.

“Lift your hips a little.” As soon as he adjusts, Mitch hits his prostate. Marty feels himself come apart, lower spine beginning to tingle. He comes with a rush, whining through it as his thighs tremble.

“Good boy,” is the last thing he hears before blacking out.


End file.
